


Demon

by Russet_Equinoxe



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU, F/F, Sunday Challenge Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 14:22:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19814107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Russet_Equinoxe/pseuds/Russet_Equinoxe
Summary: When Historia accidentally summons the demon Ymir, she gets a little less than she bargained for, but Ymir is eager to save whatever dignity she has left.





	Demon

**Author's Note:**

> Sunday Challenge Fic. This was supposed to be a one shot but the GPS in my brain rerouted (once again). Really starting to think I might be cursed here but oh well. Special thanks to DaniJayNel for keeping me motivated on this one. It is unedited and I have no regerts. Comments and constructive criticism always appreciated. Enjoy!

If Historia had the heart to make a hit list, Hitch Dreyse would've found her name at the very top.

Historia could vividly recall the exact moment she'd realized that she hated the girl and everything she might stand for besides herself. That moment was, of course, the first time Hitch opened her mouth to speak in something that Historia could've sworn was English, but not.

At 11 years old, Historia's still developing mind couldn't understand why even the briefest of conversations with her felinesque featured friend left her feeling so drained. Now it was junior year and 6 years had clued her in to the invisible but intricate layers of spite and cynicism that left her mouth numb and tasting of hemlocks with every syllable.

Hitch evoked every red flag in Historia's subconscious and she knew that from that first day they met and Hitch dubbed Historia her best friend after she listened to her ramble on about some trivial rumor for 10 minutes , she should've walked away. But the naive blonde had a tendency to see the world through rose colored glasses, so red flags were always just that: flags.

But as soon as Hitch said her next words, Historia would crush those glasses under her feet and never look back.

"So I asked Nanaba out. I hope that's cool with you," Hitch drawled nonchalantly. Under her lidded, hazel cat's eye gaze Hitch was carefully analyzing Historia's reaction and the latter was well aware.

The only sound more deafening than the silence between them was Historia's heart shattering in uneven beats.

"Oh," was all she could choke out without giving Hitch the satisfaction of the tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

Nanaba was the school's soccer team captain, but more importantly, Historia's first crush. Tall, contrastingly handsome and pretty in all the right places, and beloved by all. An electric blonde with ice blue eyes that shone with patience, strength, and compassion. She was basically the bigger, more androgynous, out of the closet version of Historia and when she first laid eyes on the stud she wasn't sure whether she wanted to be her or be with her. Unfortunately, she made the grave mistake of sharing just as much with Hitch at their third sleepover.

Hitch was a master of manipulation though. She used outsiders solely for her own benefit, but gave her friends a "discount" in which she implemented backhanded ways of getting them to do things that ultimately benefitted them. And in return she got to watch them squirm, much to her twisted sense of amusement.

So it came as no surprise for Hitch to eventually use Nanaba against her. Historia had expected it, but not like this. Blackmail to get Historia to agree to accept the position of head ambassador in student council? Sure. Threaten to spill the tea until she confessed to her crush? Historia could stomach that, but this? This was unwarranted cruelty and a cut and dry betrayal.

"Well you had a year to make your move and you didn't. I figured you were over her," Hitch shrugged.

Historia could just picture the devious smile lurking beneath the emotionless mask and it made her clench her fists until her knuckles turned white. Still, she finally met Hitch's eyes with a tight smile.

"I'm glad to hear it. I didn't even know you were into her, but I hope everything goes well for you two."

"Oh, uh, thanks," Hitch mumbled, obviously caught off guard. Broken slabs of concrete had begun to meld into perfectly paved roads alerting Historia to how close she was to home and whatever peace she could find in tear stained satin sheets.

They finally reached their destination at the gate of Historia's parent's estate. Historia desperately wanted to leave without a word, but that would imply that she was upset. And Hitch would be drawn to tearing her wound deeper like a killer whale to a wounded seal. With that in mind, Historia turned and regarded her with a veiled smile.

"Well, this is me," Historia soundlessly winced at the unevenness in her voice.

"Yeah." Hitch blurted suddenly intrigued with where the concrete met pristine marble.

Seeing that the conversation was going nowhere fast Historia keyed in her personal code. When the gates parted she took a step but froze when Hitch said her name.

"Listen, I really hope this doesn't come between our friendship."

Anger came to Historia in blood red waves that made every vein in her body throb. She would've laughed at how out of character they were if she weren't so upset. Instead of being snide, Hitch was wearing this look of genuine concern and Historia, usually all smiles was facially dressed to kill.

"It's okay Hitch. I mean really, it's not like we were ever friends anyway."

And with that, Historia slammed the gate closed and ran up the steps to her mansion. She didn't feel the tears sliding down her face until she closed the door shut behind her and sunk into the floor.

***

  
Moonlight was bathing the room in a pale glow when Historia finally unlocked the door to her room and crept down the stairs to the kitchen. She reminded herself that there was no reason to do either. Nobody was ever really home. Her father was usually away on business and hadn't married since her mother had passed, but these were thoughts that she refused to dwell on and so she pushed them out of her mind. She had enough physical and emotional pain from a single day to work through as it was.

Her head was pounding from an hour of crying and her muscles cried out in protest as she heaved herself down the last step and to the refrigerator. So much for tear stained sheets. She hadn't even made it to the bed.

The personal servants were long gone so there would be no exquisite entrees or desserts that she could hardly pronounce the name of, but Historia preferred it this way. She happily settled on a quick turkey sandwich and didn't even hesitate to add extra mayo.

Her father's fitness trainer had made it clear that it shouldn't even be in their refrigerator, but her father refused to part with it. She wasn't sure whether it was more from his love of the white sauce or just pure dignity.

When she was finished she grabbed a can of soda with her free hand and trekked back up the stairs to her room. She placed her dinner on the night stand and left once again. There was one last vital piece to her checklist for a comforting night in and that was a book.

Historia padded down the hall to her father's study. When he wasn't locked in it reading over various documents for his work and distantly staring out of the large bayview windows, he left it open for Historia and her love of his vast library. His heavy oak desk had recently been organized and behind it was the 15 foot library lined with the precious reading material Historia sought. She'd already read half if not more of them so she slid the rolling ladder towards the middle and climbed up to find her fix for the night.

Her hands trembled with excitement as she ran her fingers over the leather clad books, whispering their titles to herself as her eyes swept over each one. N was the lucky letter for tonight. Navigating Early, Netherland, No Country For Old Men... Historia was about to settle on a satisfying reread when her eyes landed on Norse Mythology. She was more into the Grecian version, but curiosity got the better of her and she plucked the thick book from it's home.

No sooner had the book left its resting place, a loud noise startled her and she lost her balance. For a split second her hands were off the ladder, frozen in midair, but adrenaline kicked in and she quickly regained her hold. The rapid thumping in her chest was something foreign, but she ignored it and searched the darkness with squinted eyes for the source of the noise.

Nothing seemed out of place so she slid down the ladder with practised ease and did a once over around the ground level of the room. Her gaze instantly locked onto a small black box on her father's desk. That definitely hadn't been there before.

Historia took tentative steps towards the cube shaped object and carefully inspected it. She tried to pick it up but to no avail. It was secured to some kind of mechanism that had lifted from the belly of the desk to the top. The light seeping into the room caught on something on the front of the box and as Historia took a closer look, she realized it was a dial which meant that the mystery cube was a safe of some kind.

Historia knew her father was a man of many secrets which was why he only needed to tell her once when she was a child to stay away from any of the locked secret rooms and safes scattered around the property. However, keeping a secret safe in the library that he specifically kept open just for her went against that very idea.

Still, every safe needed a code and considering that her father used a different code for everything that required one, it would take way longer than a night to crack it. Not only that, but she was sure her father wouldn't appreciate finding the safe on his desk when he hadn't left it there to begin with.

This left Historia torn and panic began to sink into the pit of her stomach. If she could open the safe maybe there would be something she could use to get it to close. That was, after all, how most of her father's safes worked. There was also, of course, no guarantee that this one would work the same. On the other hand, if she left it like this he would know that she'd stumbled upon something she most likely shouldn't have and there was no telling how severe her punishment would be.

"Damned if I do, damned if I don't, " Historia whispered. She had to do something, so she decided that her best course of action for the time being was to retrace her steps.

With a nervous huff she climbed up the ladder once again and tried putting Norse Mythology back into its home. When nothing happened she tried taking the book out and repeating the action just to be met with the same result. She searched the desk for any kind of hidden button or lever but found none. Then she tried the dial. She spun it to match any meaningful code that he might use: his birthday, her mother's birthday and the day she died, her own birthday, her parent's wedding day, the day her father's wildly successful company was founded. Each one produced no result. She finally came to the conclusion that she was, in a word, fucked.

There wasn't even a clue on how to return the desk to its previous state, unless...

Norse Mythology by author unknown was still on the desk right where she had left it. She traced the gold lettering and searched the front and back covers. They were blank so she flipped through the first front pages and contents. Sure enough, red ink underlined a single word near the bottom of the last page of the contents.

Ymir.

Historia quickly ran her finger over her the ends of the pages sending them flying under her fingers in rapid bursts until she reached page 314. She ignored the text and illustrations because a thin slip of paper was lodged in the fold of the book. She held it up to the light and savored the warm wash of relief that eased her tensed muscles.

071219.

She swiftly entered the code and a few second later the honey sweet sound of the safe door popping open reached her ears.

Pale fingers surged forward and found their perch on something smooth but bumpy and dry. Historia imagined snakeskin but when she pulled it out it was a thin book made with unidentifiable material. Suddenly the safe door slammed shut on it's own and lowered back into the darkness of the desk. Everything was back to it's original state save the new problem in her hands, but after the mini heart attack she'd just had, she was definitely taking it as her trophy. She replaced the paper with the code right where she'd found it and took that book as well.

She walked quickly, almost running back to her room to get a better look at the strange pamphlet. She quickly shut the door behind her, locked it, and turned on the lamp that sat on her nightstand, dumping Norse Mythology on the edge like the forgotten ragdoll it might as well have been.

When it was illuminated, Historia let out a small breath. The cover of the pamphlet looked like a flat sheet of laminated tortoiseshell. The gloss caught light that made the lighter red and maroon hues erupt into a brilliant scarlet and burgundy display. Her eyes roamed over the cover and the title.

"Ymir," Historia whispered. And then a chill ran up her spine causing her to freeze in place, grip tightening on the frayed edges.

The title was in a foreign language. Historia had taken many linguistic classes per her father's request and never had she seen any written language that even came close to resembling the alien markings on the cover of the thin document. So how was she able to understand exactly what it said?

The lettering seemed to glare at her as it took on an ethereal glow. Historia wasn't sure how she knew, wasn't even sure that she was having a sane experience, but somehow she knew the book was calling, no, begging her to open it. It tugged on strings that she had never felt inside of herself and suddenly every thought, worry, and doubt melted into a strong desire to obey. So she did.

The pages were outlined in the same tortoiseshell like cover but the text was written on equally otherworldly material that cast her room the shade of melted gold.

And then she heard the voice.

"What mortal dares to call upon me?"

It was a female voice and Historia could hear it echoing in the deepest recesses of her mind. And yet it was pervasive as though she was surrounded by a circle of people speaking as one.

"What the..."

"You summoned me young one. Who are you and what have you brought as an offering?"

"Historia Re-Reiss," was all she could say. If she really was going crazy, Historia decided she might as well go along for the ride and comply.  
  
"Ah, a Reiss. Your blood child and then I shall reveal myself to you."

Historia's eyes widened and she gulped loudly. Anything that wanted her blood was definitely something she did not want to meet.

"And if I don't?" Historia nearly wetted herself, but she'd be damned if she didn't at least try to prevent what she could only explain as her steady descent into madness.

"I do not appreciate having my time wasted. Your blood or your soul. Now."

Seeing no other choice, Historia stumbled around searching for something sharp. A sigh resonated in her head and she realized that whoever or whatever was speaking to her was growing impatient.

"You Reiss' weren't always the brightest bunch. Touch the seal."

Humiliation left a scattered blush across Historia's cheeks as the golden light grew brighter displaying the illustration of a finger that seemed to be reaching from the depths of the page to meet hers. An unseen force caused Historia to meet the pointed finger with her own and she cried out as something cut her.

Crimson pooled around her finger and disappeared into the pages. The next few moments would forever be an incoherent blur in Historia's mind.

One moment there was a blinding flash of light, the next the book rose into the air and disappeared, and then she was enveloped in something hot and wet. When she opened her eyes all she saw was black and for a moment she thought the power went out, but after several seconds she could make out a dull light from somewhere behind her. She quickly realized with a start that the light was coming from her lamp. Whatever surrounded her was not smoke, but it was dark, thick, cloudy and it smelled faintly of limestone and hot springs.

When it cleared however, Historia finally accepted that she'd officially lost her mind because there was only one word that could possibly describe what stood at the foot of her bed with hellfire eyes and a twisted grin.

And that word was demon. 


End file.
